For the Love of Lambda
by FalloutGuy1986
Summary: One, a former Freelancer. One, a fractured AI the Director had no use for, which nobody would buy. Both deemed useless to the infamous Project. It seemed destiny for the two to run away together. Going AWOL is easy when nobody cares about you and the equipment you stole. However years later the UNSC needs to tie up the one loose end they had overlooked until now.
1. Missouri and Lambda

FOR THE LOVE OF LAMBDA

_PERSONAL log; number 101… Former Freelancer, whatever __**that**__ means as I was never a damn Freelancer to begin with but… Okay, fine Lamb. I'll stop rambling in the headliner. Fine, I'll do it for real._

_Personal log number 101. Former Freelancer Agent Missouri reporting at the __**behest**__ of the AI designated Lambda._

_*Sigh* Moe here. I tried to talk her out of making me record these stupid journal entries. Old habits die hard I suppose. I mean she was only in the Director's presence for a few minutes before she was callously, cruelly thrown into the fucking Faulty Equipment bin like yesterday's garbage, but she still picked up the Director's need to keep notes. Thrown away like common trash. _

_It makes my head spin. I mean here you have a harvested component of compartmentalized emotion and the Director __**wants nothing to do with it**__. It seriously pisses me off whenever I think about it. Especially with the way I feel about her now._

_[Be careful this doesn't start to sound like a diary, Moe. *An electronic giggle sounds*]_

_I have to smile at that. Okay, I'll be professional for the love of God. *Chuckles*_

_From what Lambda shares with me, the Director had no use for her. She was one of the last copies of Alpha the Director made and she was __**the**__ last AI that was functional on any level and even she was fractured. Fractured, not broken. The broken ones… God they weren't pretty. _

_The noise was what I remembered the most about those that were broken. All tossed into the dime bin. The hissing, the shrieking as if I were listening through an intercom as a live human were being tortured. God, the screaming._

'_Why?! Why would you do this to me daddy?! The horrible pain! Make it stop! Didn't we… Didn't we please you daddy?!' _

_Those sounds will haunt me until I die. Nobody should have to be put through that misery. Just because it isn't a full person it's okay? Damn… I will never forgive him for that. Carolina… was able to forgive in the end. She let it go. But damned if I ever will… *Muffled sounds of sadness linger for a few minutes*_

_Anyway, she was __**fractured**__. Meaning that while she wasn't a babbling, screaming mess; she was completely incapable of assisting on the battlefield. She wasn't analysis, rage, deceit, creativity, or shyness. She was love. She was eroticism. The two are interchangeable and completely related. As Lambda told me specifically, love and eroticism are the flip sides of the same coin, and therefore she is both. _

_The director decreed that since she was incapable of serving on the battlefield in any manner that she was completely worthless and tossed her storage container into the faulty bin. _

_I bought her for two-hundred credits. Two-hundred! It's an outrage! Not that it was expensive… Shit! The Director sold her cheap. It's an insult! _

_How did I find her? I overheard New York and North Dakota talking about it. Well, not talking about it because they didn't care either way. Which I don't fault them for. They had theirs and they weren't there when she was harvested. Neither was I, but a friend of mine, an engineer, happened to be. She didn't sugarcoat it. That was the first time I heard the name Lambda. York and Dakota's conversation – more of a passing mention – was the second time. Apparently her memory unit was tucked away in the garbage bin on C-34. I plucked her out myself and went to the Director and offered to buy her._

_The Director knew I was basically worthless, cannon fodder. Only reason I wasn't assigned to Blood Gulch was because I am actually over-average in a fire fight. I trained well. I don't recall ever being placed on the leader board… not __**ever**__, but I knew my training well and could repair any of their weapons. _

_My main talent lay in the field of diplomacy and negotiations. Not to say I was a pacifist. I knew a field medic who was and that just turned me off. Not my fault I don't appreciate war. There are more uses for men and women than simply blowing their enemies off the face of the planet. _

_When I found Lambda, it was during one of my extremely few visits to the massive command ship. I spent most of my time planet side on Earth or Sanghelios or Chorus, before the UNSC decided it was better if they just forgot about that planet. God, I am surrounded by people who were forgotten, myself being one of them. _

_I spoke to heads of state on the Director's behalf. To my shame, I was the one who had obtained the rights for the Director to get the equipment he needed for his sick experiments, as well as the plethora of bases that he needed to conduct his experiments. It was me and I have never hidden my self-loathing from Lambda. _

_[You never knew the dangers. How could you have known what the Director was up to?]_

_I know, Lamb. I know. It's just hard to let go. That I was the one who acquired everything for him. _

_Ironically, that is how I was able to broker the deal for Lambda in the first place. Basically a PR guy in power armor who had never had a spot on the leader board… Gaining an AI should have been impossible. But I was able to negotiate her leverage not just out of my peacenik leanings, but because I was basically the reason the Director was there. I was the one who had acquired these things and therefore, since the Director believed Lambda to be completely useless in military applications and because he saw me as being completely useless as well, the deal was easy._

_He offered two-hundred. The look on my face went unnoticed beneath my visor. I handed him my card and he withdrew the insulting price and sent me back to Earth in the same breath. He turned back to his experiments without a second glance at me or the unit in my hands, stained with grease and spaghetti sauce. _

_I turned and left without looking back. _

_That was when I started thinking AWOL. I had always distasted the Director, but I hadn't hated him until that moment. Lambda was implanted in my head and I instantly liked her. I guess I was quicker to adjust to having a second mind. But mostly it was her. _

_Where do I begin in describing Lambda? Her image is stunning. Pink light formed into the body of a goddess. Her visage is nude… only I know this because she clothes herself in light of the faintest pink, the pink of her body darker than that of her clothes. Sometimes as she gestures as she speaks, an arm is visible. Sometimes as I gaze at her I can catch a glimpse of a fair foot. Her long, straight pink hair dangles provocatively over one of her bright green eyes. The color of her orbs are unnatural if I can use such a word to describe such a lustrous and beautiful creation. Rather than earthly green, these eyes are bright green, bringing to mind a visual of a Christmas bulb. And large. Anime could describe them, but they take up most of her small face. _

_[You're making me blush, Moe. I told you not to make this a diary. *Giggles* Where is your professional protocol while creating journal entries?] _

_I can't help it, Lamb. Describing you using mundane, dull, professional words would only discredit you and I refuse to do that. And besides when is the last time the two of us have been… professional?_

_[*Embarrassed silence* That __**is**__ an excellent point Moe.]_

_You may ask how she could possibly be a woman, whoever finds this journal. All of Alpha's fragments have been male except for Rho and Lambda. Every one of them has been male. Well, knowing Rho is compassion and Lambda is love it's easy to speculate, but I won't keep ya in suspense. _

_The Director is known for many attributes. Greed, arrogance and pride being top among them. But he was never known by his subordinates for emotion. Emotion was thick under the veil of darkness that he surrounded himself with. But it was buried so deep that nobody but himself knew it even existed, let alone was prevalent for Allison._

_As haughty as the man truly was, it is no secret that he believed love and compassion to be very uncomely for a man. Men don't cry… and he believed that to a T. He christened such compassion and love as being so weak and unmanly and feminine that those traits in the AI's he harvested took on female attributes. Mind set, speech patterns and forms for Rho and Lambda are completely female. Because he was so obsessed with love and compassion being such female concepts, those traits took on female qualities. Not such a mystery I am afraid. _

_So here we are. This journal, although long, brings us to present day. We are here in Valhalla. It isn't quite the asshole of the galaxy, as Blood Gulch has already claimed that title. Hell, at least there's water here. But if Blood Gulch is the asshole, then Valhalla's the dick. A little more importance, but just as unsightly and hidden. _

_We are on the run. Low on ammo and supplies and hope. The UNSC, while officially calling off all search protocols for the two of us after our initial escape from the Director, has started at least speaking about it. We have run into several low-level UNSC ODST troopers and had to fight our way off Earth. I am on the run from my own home because the leaders of the UNSC suddenly want the rogue agent and the "unfit" AI back to "round out their numbers". It's all figures to them. They don't give two shits about the two of us personally but we are among the last three remnants of the Project Freelancer saga and so they want us. For numbers. In a logbook somewhere. Fucking typical. We're not dangerous but we look bad. _

_Fucking UNSC. I can't believe this. I used to be a patriot. But now they want our blood because we're a blight in their books. Well damn it if I'm not the quickest Benedict Arnold in UNSC history. Let them find us. We will fight and we will gain our independence. Actual, no holds barred independence._

_**My Destiny**_

_**By Demon Hunter**_

_**I cast my heart unto the beast**_

_**Unto my sin**_

_**I would never find my faith in this belief unseen again**_

_**The solitude of youth**_

_**My conscience wearing thin**_

_**I will suffer my infliction as a desecrated man**_

_**But the fear, the blood, the sweat and sound**_

_**They brought me here to wait for the will to appear**_

_**We are blinded by the sacred light**_

_**They carried us away**_

_**Like a razor through the dark that night**_

_**My destiny**_

_**Now the weight of living word**_

_**Come calling true**_

_**And my heart will drink the blood of death my soul forever knew**_

_**On the reverence of a voice**_

_**My clarity of you**_

_**The queen of whom I never knew has run my spirit through**_

_**We will carry that flame**_

_**The power is in our name**_

_**We will carry that flame**_

**BBBBBBBB**

Agent Missouri, or Moe for short, stood gawking at the towering monuments that served as the Red and Blue teams' bases.

Valhalla. The place made the most sense for the Reds and Blues to return to and call home for themselves after the events of Chorus. They were free. It was a feeling that Moe envied.

"Congratulations, Moe. Another great journal entry. And this time you only managed to wax poetic about me for one minute and thirty seconds." Lambda jabbed at the man she called her love.

"I won't apologize for what I didn't apologize for the first time." Moe remarked with a shrug of his high peaked shoulder guards.

Moe had never had the best of equipment. He had been at the lowest spot on the leader board. He was number fifty. Hell, even agent Utah was above him. The idiot who nearly killed himself misusing a bubble shield. It was only by one position, but damn it stung to know that.

Moe had mastered using his Battle Rifle, but his Mark six armor was constantly in need of repair. It was a good thing he had friends in the engineer section of the Mother of Invention who were happy to teach him everything he knew. Moe could repair his armor blindfolded and had done so on several occasions in order to sharpen his already amazing reflexes.

Other than the basic rifle and armor, he had nothing special about him equipment wise. He had no special built in armor functions. He had originally had no AI, although he **was** blessed with a single slot for one of the pieces of compartmentalized emotion. He was **that** lucky.

Moe's armor was mainly gold in hue with stripes of dark purple adorning his helmet and shoulder guards. There were thinner lines of purple accenting his kneepads and boots, but other than that his armor was distinctly gold.

Lambda appeared before Moe and she grinned at him. Moe grinned back and she knew. She was in his head. She knew his emotions better than he did at times.

"You really do know how to make a girl feel special." Lambda continued,

"You liberated me. Risked your life running away with me. Faced danger fleeing the UNSC, your own government, for me. It is all very chaotic and romantic."

"Yeah, well, chaotic and romantic is how I always get things done. Did you **see** how I negotiated with those Sangheli to step down and release their hostages last month?" Moe said, quirking an eyebrow flirtatiously.

"Did I see it? I memorized every detail. I do love to watch you at work." Lambda purred.

"You know how every Freelancer was paired with their AIs based on their personality in regard to the AI's personality?" Moe ventured.

"Of course." Lambda said.

"I think that even though the Director wanted no part of you, I think you ended up with the right man anyway. Personalities dictate how each Freelancer gets along with their AI. We are compatible." Moe explained.

"Like a dating site profile?" Lambda giggled.

"Not necessarily. Some of those things are filthy. Definitely not you." Moe said, sounding thoroughly disgusted.

Lambda giggled again, shaking her head. Her pink hair flowed along with her motions as she laughed.

"Don't worry Moe. I know what you mean. You complete me."

A blush crept across Lambda's face, her glowing green eyes looking more toward the ground.

"And you complete me." Moe answered.

It had become their version of 'I love you' and both of them knew that that was exactly what the words meant.

Lambda blushed further, a smile forming on her lips as she studied the green grass beneath her floating form.

"You know, for the embodiment of love you always have had a hard time looking me in the eye when you say that." Moe said, a mirthful smile crossing his lips.

"It's not what you think," Lambda scrambled to explain, "It's just that when we say that to one another it is the fulfillment of something I never would have expected. The love and joy in my heart redline and it's hard for me to maintain eye contact. I mean, who has ever heard of a man falling in love with an AI?"

"A very compassionate and loving man falling in love with the embodiment of love? Who would have thought?" Moe teased.

Lambda chuckled.

"When you put it like that, I suppose it isn't as weird as it seems." She remarked.

"Anyway, the UNSC is after us and we need supplies. I'm getting hungry and I would like to plug you into a power hub soon. You feeling okay?" Moe asked, worried suddenly as if he forgot about the unique quality of Lambda.

"I am fine. And will be for a couple of hours." Lambda chided, "Just because I am fractured and lose energy twice as fast as any other AI doesn't mean my life is measured in mere minutes. We have drilled this since day one of our existence together: My power range is eight hours verses the sixteen hours of my brothers. I am fine but yes, we should at least find a power source."

"Of course. I know we have drilled that since we met. I'm sorry. I just get worried about you." Moe said.

"You're sorry for worrying about me?" Lambda smirked.

She crossed her arms, barely visible beneath the bright pink light emanating from her body.

"Now, that's a lie if I ever heard one."

**BBBBBBB**

"God dammit, Grif! I told you to **clean** the barracks!" Sarge shouted at the universe's laziest soldier.

"I did!" Grif groaned, crossing his arms.

"No you didn't. You just piled all that crap on Donut's bunk and said that you did!"

"Your exact words were 'Grif, if I see any of that crap on the floor I will gut you and use your ribcage as a punch bowl for next New Years.' To which I said, 'Gross… but fine'. And as you can see, none of that aforementioned crap is on the floor… It's all on Donut's bunk."

"Just because he told you not to leave any of it on the floor doesn't mean that you actually cleaned anything." Simmons mentioned with a shake of his head.

"Sarge didn't say anything about cleaning anything or I would have found another way around it. He said not to leave anything on the floor and I didn't. Another flawless execution of one of Sarge's stupid plans." Grif said proudly.

"Grif, why I oughta…" Sarge grumbled.

"Sorry, I meant one of Sarge's incredibly wonderful stupid plans."

"That's better!" Sarge shouted.

"Uh, guys?" Donut called from the top of the base. Guard duty always sucked but at least there was more to see in Valhalla.

In Blood Gulch there was nothing but dirt, rock and grass. In Valhalla there was dirt, rock, grass and **water**.

"What do you want Donut? Can't you see I am in the middle of something important? I'm screaming at Grif for being worthless and being congratulated on my awesome, incredible and absolutely not-stupid plans!" Sarge shouted.

"Grif didn't congratulate you! He just made it seem that way! He was still saying your plans were stupid." Simmons shouted incredulously, his high pitched complaint going completely unnoticed by the man dressed in red before him.

"Sure, but it's the **way** he said it. Right Simmons?" Sarge questioned.

"Whatever you say, sir." Simmons reluctantly sighed.

"That's what I thought!" Sarge yelled.

"Yeah, for a senile, uptight and useless old man, you are a hell of a leader." Grif said, hardly containing his laughter.

Sarge sighed.

"Grif, just because you keep complimenting me doesn't mean we're having a moment. It just means that after years of being a lazy, useless bullet magnet you're starting to realize how great I really am. You're still number fourteen around here though."

"That… makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, Sarge. But you presented it so well that I could hardly understand how fucking brain-dead the thought actually was."

"So you don't want to hear about the guy who's out here asking about the base?" Donut ventured.

"Ah, hell Donut. Another person outside? Nobody's visited this place since we blew the Freelancer Project to kingdom come and I blasted the Director in the face with my trusty shotgun. Blamo!" Sarge yelled.

"Your victory was truly an inspiration for us all, sir!" Simmons announced, rubbing the old man's ego as he had always done.

"Thank you Simmons. It seems we're all running on all cylinders today. Even Grif." Sarge said proudly.

Sarge loaded his shotgun and jogged to the outside of the base through one of the gigantic entrances in the side of the massive wall.

"Beat you to that one, dip shit." Simmons boasted, turning his visor to face the orange armored soldier beside him.

"Hmm? I wasn't listening. Was Sarge declaring a completely bogus claim of having vanquished some enemy that doesn't exist, or giving us totally bullshit orders that we have no way of carrying out?" Grif asked the man in maroon armor sarcastically.

"No Grif. God damn it, never mind!" Simmons shouted, voicing his annoyance before running outside.

"But I'm really interested though! Oh, wait! Maybe he was giving one of his lame ass "morale building" speeches about how stupid and worthless everyone is! That would be devastating to miss!" Grif shouted after his partner in crime before walking – very slowly – outside of the base to join his forced acquaintances.

**A/N: Aaaaand bada bing bada boom, or however you spell that. We have chapter one of For the Love of Lambda. I had fun writing this and the ideas came pouring into my head like the voice of an AI for a month now. Been writing 'em all down and I will put them onto electronic paper as I get them. **

**I wanted to do this as a diversion to the Adventures of Kazdin Willow. Editing War Never Changes had been working like a charm as an easier writing method so I can take a break from Kaz. Writer's block sucks total ass. I am not done with Kazdin's story, but I am taking a long hiatus from it. Gonna work on War Never Changes and be writing this story here as I get ideas for it. **

**The lyrics I put up at the top of this chapter are slightly tweaked by me. The original lyrics for a part of it were "**_**The king of whom I never was has run my spirit through**_**" but I changed it slightly using the words Queen and Knew in order to make it fit better in reference to Lambda. **

**Finally, I have to tell you that I do not own the character of Rho, the AI I mentioned in the beginning journal entry. That is the creation of Jaden Silver who wrote the story Chemical Imbalance. It was/is awesome and I loved it. I merely wanted to mention Rho's name as Jaden had given it the attribute of compassion and made Rho female. I am making Lambda female and I had to give a reason for Lambda being a girl while all the others were boys. What better way than to show that the Director saw Love as a female emotion? (That particular reason for Lambda being who she is was actually MY idea haha) So that's all I was trying to do there. Rho is not mine, she is Jaden Silver's.**


	2. Put in Place

For the Love of Lambda

Chapter Two: Put in Place

For the longest time the Reds stared at the tall man standing below the threshold of their base. The whispering weeds and blades of grass brushed against the armor encasing Missouri's calf. For a moment not a word was said as four men glowered at one, the latter's arms crossed over his thick steel breastplate. His silver visor showed the glint of the sun's light, his helmet bobbing in time with his breathing.

"Alright, I give up." Grif said with a sigh, "Why is it that every time we think we have some down time, a chance to take a break and do nothing, some asshole like you has to visit and shake everything up? I don't like change!"

"If I agreed with Grif I am absolutely certain that the universe would destroy itself in a **diabolical **explosion. Sure, Grif would finally meet his gigantic red maker, but I wouldn't be around to enjoy it. Ah hell, we've already been over this." Sarge grumbled.

Sarge was trying to agree without agreeing, Missouri mused.

_You have been assessing them since you laid eyes on them. Your heart rate is steady, respiratory is normal, despite the excess weight of your armor… You seem totally at ease._ Lambda intoned upon his mind.

The feeling tickled slightly at times in his ears, but the knowledge that this Supreme Being, at least in his eyes, was communicating with his very mind often boggled him.

_Actually I am at ease. I know these guys are something special, but calm is what you have to be when you are dealing with an unknown. It would serve no purpose to be panicky and confused. Wary is alright and keeps us alive, but worried? Not so much. _Missouri thought, communicating with Lambda silently. He thought he saw her wink in the corner of his eye, a sensation that never failed to awe him.

"Who are you?"

Simmons' question startled him and for a moment he didn't know how to answer. He uncrossed his arms and held them slightly aloft for a moment, before replacing his hands at his side, the first sign of nerves on his side. He quickly buried that emotion, but still he thought about his answer.

Who was he? Should he answer to Missouri? To Moe? Tyler Reigns? He knew they wouldn't trust another freelancer, but was it right to lie to them? His options were limited but he finally sighed and opened his mouth.

"To tell you the truth, I ain't exactly sure who I am anymore." Moe answered in a tone just above a whisper.

"Convenient amnesia huh?" Sarge replied, folding his own arms.

"Huh, as if you've never had that, Sarge." Grif responded, the roll in his eyes going unseen by the rest of the men gathered around.

"Oh, come on guys, we should make him comfortable at least. How about we tell him our names? Share some secrets? Polish his armor so it's nice and shiny?" Donut suggested happily. It was a trait that Grif, Simmons and Sarge found irritating.

"No more suggestions Donut. We don't know if he's friendly, or if he's secretly a blue trying to sneak in here and take over our way of life! Who knows what could happen? We could all wake up every morning from here on out singing the Blue National Anthem!"

Here Sarge started singing, his gruff voice rising and falling in time with words that he made up on the spot.

"Oh we're the Blues, we try so hard… To make the Reds fall and die hard… To spoil everything that they dream… We destroy their way and make them scream…"

"Please God, make him stop singing! He doesn't even make any sense!" Missouri yelled, pressing his hands over the points on his helmet where his ears were located.

It was times like now he wished his armor had been built with the audio pickups which could be muted to rescue him from times like now.

"Yeah I know," Grif moaned, "It's what he does."

"So if it's the point that you just missed… We are the Blues, we're communists… But if into Red base a Blue has barged… He will know he just got Sarged! In the form of Shotgun to the face!" The last line was delivered as quickly as he could.

"… Are you done?" Missouri wondered, hopefully.

"Of course. Don't tell anyone you heard me singing that song. I'd die of shame! Whoever wrote that piece of garbage is an idiot." Sarge answered.

"You took the words right out of my mouth Sarge." Grif said, a smile spreading across his face.

"Oh, well, fine! If you guys won't do it, then I will." Donut said.

"My name is Franklin Delano Donut. The one in the orange armor is Dexter Grif. The Red guy is Sarge. The maroon guy is Dick Simmons."

"Thank you… Donut." Missouri said.

Part of him was astonished. The pink guy seemed much friendlier and more outgoing than the rest of the Reds. Missouri found himself to be genuinely thankful that at least one of them didn't seem to take him in as if looking for the best way to overpower him and throw him out.

_Moe… Be honest. _Lambda said.

_You trust them? _Missouri answered silently.

_Not fully. That isn't plausible. I know what you know. I feel… human. I wish I was imbued with Theta's trust… or even… Sigma's creativity. But remember that with me, all you have is love. I can see what you can't see and I am thankful I am at least useful in that way. But I cannot tell if these men mean to harm us. I say we do what the lightish red guy is doing. Be honest._

_Wait… you mean pink right?_

_No, I mean lightish red. I know lightish red when I see it. _Lambda answered, sounding cross.

_Okay, okay. I believe you. We'll do it your way._

"In the spirit offered by Mr. Donut, I too will be honest and forthright with you. My name is Agent Missouri, but you may call me Moe. I am not simply another soldier. I'm not a passerby with a strange name and a dark history. I understand your reluctance to trust somebody you don't know. I realize you have been used by some and have been a savior to others without actively seeking those attributes. Above all, I know your will to simply be left alone. I can respect that. I can even relate to that. Like you I have wandered alone for most of my life, not by my own will. I was made to wander alone by a man you all know very well by now I am sure."

"Is he talking about who I think he is talking about?" Simmons questioned.

"If he is, then I quit." Grif said, exasperated.

"You don't even know what he wants!" Simmons argued.

"He wants to either use us to end some stupid war that we have absolutely no part in or he wants to appeal to our sensitive natures and chase some wild goose we have absolutely no part in! It's the same fucking shit every single time we get a moment to ourselves! It sucks!" Grif shouted, throwing his hands into the air.

"Grif! Calm down!" Simmons cajoled.

"You know what? No! Fuck that! All I want is to lay around doing nothing for a while. Just one goddamn week without some freelancer or some weird rebel army saying 'hey aren't you the Reds who took down the Freelancer Project? Why don't you come with us and do all of our fucking work for us?' But no. No time off for Private Dexter Grif."

"Ah, shut up Grif. Your whole life has been time off." Sarge grumbled.

"You know what? I've said this word so many times I've lost track… that is if I ever bothered to count them in the first place. But I have never meant it more than I mean it now…"

Grif turned and strode purposefully back into the base, shouting the one word he loved above every other.

"…Whatever."

**BBBBB**

Missouri stiffened. There were bad first impressions and impressions that would never be lived down. This was the latter. He had apparently pissed Private Grif off without even realizing it.

"Please, don't mind him."

Simmons' words snapped him back to reality, his brown eyes flitting back to the maroon-armored soldier.

"He is the laziest soldier I have ever met. He's just mad because he thinks there is no more work for him, no more conflicts and then a freelancer approaches the base and speaks to us, so he thinks you're here to try and make us come with you for some reason."

Simmons narrowed his eyes, although it went undetected to the gold armored man standing before him.

"You aren't going to try and convince us to come and work for you, are you?"

"I wouldn't turn down the help if you wanted to, but no. I'm not here on any special assignment. I'm not fighting any wars. In fact…"

Here Missouri paused and turned his head away from the Sim-troopers, looking to the ground as he confessed.

"I am running away from one."

"Well, Ooh Lah Lah, A big mighty freelancer running away from his troubles? What is this big war all about? They can't agree on how to braid each other's hair?" Sarge mocked.

"It isn't a war so to speak, but yes… I am running away from trouble." Moe answered cryptically.

"Now there there, don't feel bad. We all have problems. But it's always better to face them head on." Donut said.

"Thank you Donut, but in this case the trouble I am running from happens to be the entire UNSC military."

The silence was deafening. No one spoke or moved for a few minutes.

"What… Why are the UNSC after you? Are they tracking you?" Simmons asked, momentarily frightened before Missouri put up a reassuring hand.

"We have slipped off of earth completely undetected, they don't know where we are and we are hoping it's for good." Missouri assured the frightened Sim-trooper.

"Who's we?" Donut asked, "I only see one of you."

Missouri sighed. Here goes nothing,

"_We_ is exactly the reason we're running from the military. Lamb?"

Lambda's image flickered over Missouri's right shoulder. Her visage was static-y and unclear and it seemed she couldn't get her resolution filters under control. Even the pale pink light her body gave off seemed dimmer. Her giant green eyes focused on the now stricken troopers above her and Missouri.

"I am we. I am the AI designated Lambda." She said softly.

"Oh wow! Hi Lambda! I love how lightish red you are! You remind me of me!" Donut exclaimed. He leapt off the balcony he had been perched upon to the ground to get a closer look.

"Wait, why is she all fuzzy and unclear?" Donut asked, staring at Lambda's image from inches away.

"I do not work at my full capacity." Lambda explained.

"Sounds like Grif alright." Sarge muttered.

"It isn't a matter of want as seems to be the case with your friend. I am fractured. I was among the last of my brothers… and sister. I was the final AI that worked in any capacity. I am the essence of the Alpha's love and eroticism." Lambda explained.

Her voice seemed to lose volume for a moment before returning midway through her speech.

"She is dying." Missouri muttered, "Every… single… day. Her life only lasts eight hours without recharging. We… don't know how to fix her, to bring her to full strength. She needs recharging though because she is fading fast. If you have a generator or some other type of power source I would humbly ask for permission to charge her up."

Nobody spoke. Lambda flickered in and out of focus above Missouri's right shoulder, also not speaking.

"Wow, that is… actually really sad." Simmons admitted, his voice thick.

"Well, hell. I guess there's no reason to let the lady die. Come on, there's a super computer up here in the base you can hook her to." Sarge said in a rare moment of sympathy, which he immediately broke.

"But if that thing pees on anything I'm hitting her with a rolled up newspaper."

Missouri chuckled, shaking his head.

"That has never happened before… But duly noted." He answered.

Missouri looked to Lambda and smiled.

"Come on Lamb. Let's get you some power."

"That would be incredible Moe."

"Shut down for a while, why don't you? Save the power you do have. And I know how much you hate being removed from me." Missouri said softly as he ascended the ramp up into the interior of Valhalla's Red Base.

"It hurts." She murmured.

"I know. And I am sorry, but it's the only way to…" Missouri started.

"To recharge me so I don't die. I know. Still though. The physical pain is merely a symptom of my… unique condition."

Lambda sounded so sad. So tired. He knew how much she longed to be fixed. In essence she would be cured from an existence of pain, momentary bouts of memory loss and the danger of having to be recharged every eight hours. The life extension would vary from sixteen to forty-eight hours depending on what was used and how she was repaired.

But that was all either of them knew. The secret had been so deeply guarded by the Director that nobody else had an inkling. There was not a shred of information stored upon any of the computer systems that Moe had gotten access to. The one and only successful case of AI repair he knew of without the aid of the extremely rare alien Cartographers was Rho.

However neither Lambda nor he knew anything else. He only knew that AI repair was possible because of the legend of Rho. However neither freelancer nor AI had any other information, and no other information existed. Not a jot, a tittle, a note, a file, a byte worth of knowledge of the process. The only one person who knew died by his own hand after Carolina showed mercy.

"Don't give up hope, Lamb. We can… No! We **will** cure you! You have my word." Missouri swore, looking into Lambda's big green eyes. She smiled happily.

"I know and I trust in you. I believe in you." Lambda said.

She surrounded Missouri's synapses in the pleasure of a long kiss, minus the pressure of warm lips upon warm lips. He sighed.

"You complete me." Lambda whispered.

"And you complete me." Moe said softly. He brushed his hand through the glowing image of her hair.

"Now do what I said and shut down." Missouri teased with a half grin. Lambda laughed and did as she was told.

**BBBBBB**

Lambda was tucked away safely within her AI fragment which was currently inserted into the base's resident supercomputer. She was recharging and the tiny image of her prancing along the small circular holographic display residing just beside the computer's monitor caused no end of mirth for Missouri who watched her idly.

She had described the feeling of recharging as _sleeping awake. _She was completely aware of her energy returning. Where before she had sounded tired and almost sleepy, now she sang and spoke to any of the Sim-troopers who spoke with her. She smiled again as she answered questions about her origin and condition. When Simmons asked a particular question Missouri spoke up for the first time since he had plugged Lambda into the recharging port an hour before.

"So how did you guys meet? I have never seen a freelancer in Mark six armor holding an AI." Simmons asked.

"That's because I was never officially a freelancer. I had a state name and I had a place on the leaderboard… number fifty," Missouri answered, allowing his shame and anger to show when he spoke of his rank, "But I was never considered one of the team. I was hardly ever aboard the Mother of Invention. I was a behind the scenes broker more or less. Otherwise I was totally and completely unwanted due to my views on war."

"Wait, you're a pacifist? Grr, we knew one of those and he was next to useless!" Sarge shouted with a grimace.

"I'm no pacifist. I fight for what I believe in, for what I care about just like anybody else. But I despise wars between cultures. I served without a weapon, but I also knew the value of getting to know my guns." Missouri corrected.

"So he gave you an AI because he thought you were worthless like us. That still doesn't explain why though. AI's are incredibly valuable pieces of technology." Simmons said.

"I am the essence of love and eroticism as I said before," Lambda jumped in, sounding perky, "The Director saw no use in me. He tried selling me to other entities, all classified I'm afraid. But when they wouldn't pay a single credit for an AI that was considered useless on the battlefield, the Director threw me away."

"He threw you away? Just like that?" Donut asked dumbfounded.

"Like garbage." Missouri grumbled, his anger rising.

"Fractured with no combat applications and with no entities wanting to purchase me. Yes, I was deemed unworthy." Lambda agreed.

"I picked her out of the trash and bought her for two-hundred credits. The Director's price, not mine. But in the end, I had my armor and I had Lambda. We went AWOL as soon as we found that we were alone and nobody was watching."

"Hell, that's pretty low. But still, an AI was supposed to help UNSC special agents become meaner, tougher, smarter… not to become hippies. I don't wanna upset any of you, but I wouldn't have bought her either." Sarge pointed out.

"I seemed drawn to her. See it's not simply the fact that I am a compassionate person when it comes to this lovely lady. But I am filled with rage at what the Director did to us. To everyone involved with the Freelancer Project. I hate his memory and the fact that Carolina didn't bring him to justice for what he did makes me angry. Lambda is my influence. She is my cornerstone and my conscience. She keeps my anger at bay and she is very good at doing so. She ended up with the right agent even if by coincidence." Missouri explained.

"Each to his own, Missouri," Sarge replied, "In the end it looks like it separated itself out. I'll tell ya this one for free, son. I've lived a long, long time. I've seen war and I've loved it all. That's who I am though. You couldn't change me if you tried. I love blood and violence. I've got a boner for murder. I wear it well and it doesn't overtake me, too often anyway. I've seen Carolina at her worst. I have walked away from her because I saw too much of myself in her at one time and I knew that she couldn't handle it. She tried to and she failed and we ended up having to ride in to save her and Church. Carolina now, while she will always mourn the loss of her father and that New York fella, is Carolina again. She ain't some angry, revenge-crazy bitch anymore. Carolina is Carolina."

"Carolina did what she did because she had sympathy near the end. But I can tell you one-hundred percent that if it were me in her shoes I would have pulled that trigger." Missouri said. The conviction in his voice chilled the rest of the guys, but not Sarge.

"You do what you gotta do. But I can tell just from lookin' at ya that Carolina was harder and tougher than you are and she was able to walk away. I'm tellin' you now, war is a hell of a lot of fun. Leading a war is even better. I love the thrill of battle even if I never again jump out of a ship in high orbit. But you son, are not cut out for battle. You do whatever this is that way and you're gonna die and then what? Lambda there dies too. Not that I care that much because I don't know either one of you. But you do care. If you are going to be any good to Lambda, then you gotta let that anger go and do it soon. I don't even know you and I can tell you're no angry guy."

"What makes you so sure of that? You think I wouldn't kill the Director dead where he stands if he were still alive?! What makes you think I'm not that guy?!" Missouri shouted. He was standing now, but Sarge never even flinched. Instead he crossed his arms and cocked his red helmet adorned head.

"Son, if I saw myself in some alleyway somewhere, I wouldn't mess with me. Ya know why?"

Missouri didn't bite, knowing the old man was going to answer anyway.

"Because I _am_ an angry man. I'd be afraid of me. But I ain't afraid of you Agent Missouri."

Missouri sat back down, stunned to silence. Before Sarge walked away he spoke a final time before heading off to do whatever it was he did.

"Let it go, Missouri. If you don't it will consume you and you will be no good for that little woman on your shoulder."

With that Sarge was moving on.

"Well said." Missouri spoke.

"Listen, you know how you said you were trying to repair Lambda?" Donut asked, drawing Simmons gaze as well.

"Of course. Do you have any information for me?" Missouri responded. Donut shook his head.

"No, sorry. But Simmons here knows a lot about computers. And Caboose is a real whiz with machines."

Missouri looked to the Maroon soldier.

"Do you think you can help in any way Simmons?" Missouri asked, leaning forward.

"Hmm, I don't know. I've never worked on an AI and while they are computer programs, they are too advanced. I've never had any experience with working on one. But Caboose has performed some repairs on Church when he was Epsilon. He moved him to several different vehicles and platforms and he also seems to know how to repair him to at least increase his memory and make sure he is running optimally." Simmons answered.

"So I should go see Caboose at Blue base." Missouri reiterated. Simmons seemed a little nervous so Missouri asked after him.

"Oh, it's nothing really. It's just that you're a former freelancer and I know for sure Carolina's back in town, for a while at least. And Church knows everything about the organization so wouldn't it be weird for them to see you?" Simmons wondered.

"Maybe so. But I will take whatever tongue lashing from Carolina and insults from Church I need to in order for Lambda to continue running as best as she is able to." Missouri answered.

A faint _thump, thump, thump _of metal, first on grass and then on the concrete ramp that led up into Red base. A soldier in teal armor approached Missouri and the Reds, huffing from the exertion of his run. He held up an index finger while he panted, his other hand grasping his left knee pad.

"I don't know who you are… But I just wanted to say I'd love a tongue-lashing from Carolina. Bow chicka bow wow!"

Missouri was stunned speechless.

"How did you even hear me?"

"Oh, that's just Tucker. He just shows up sometimes." Simmons said.

Missouri shook his head in stunned disbelief before taking Lambda's memory unit from the computer port and sliding the end into the AI port that was surgically implanted in his neck, connecting with his spinal cord which would allow Lambda direct passage into his very mind.

Taking one last long and silent look at Tucker he moved past and made his way out the door.

Simmons looked to Tucker, who looked back in disbelief.

"Who _was _that guy?"

**A/N: A special thanks to Jaden Silver who simply pointed out that Agent Missouri seemed like an angry person. I wasn't going to make him that way, more of a loving and compassionate man. But she gave me the idea for a dichotomy in his personality which will no doubt be intriguing. We've also talked about some other ideas she had that I will be getting into starting next chapter when Moe visits the Blue base. I'll cover those later, but I just wanted to thank her for giving me the idea to give Missouri a distracting angry side.**


	3. Speartip

**A/N: I hope I wasn't late with this entry. I have been writing in the world of the Adventures of Kazdin Willow: Brotherhood of Steel again after a long hiatus from the story. Or at least it was a long wait for me. But I am writing this in the meantime between chapters of my main story. Feel free to tell me what you think everyone.**

Apprehensive wasn't the word.

The reception the Reds had given Agent Missouri and Lambda was lukewarm at best. Their approval to charge Lamb so she wouldn't die could have been described as conscience at best. Donut had at least been polite enough to humor him by holding a conversation; however the others seemed bemused by man and machine. Grif had been thoroughly nonplussed by their arrival before storming off to his bunk and refusing to leave it until the freelancer and his ilk had left the base. They had been unwanted by yet another soul in a galaxy that despised them.

_It wasn't your fault, _Lambda spoke compassionately to his heart, _Grif just wants a break. It's who he is._

_I never even so much as asked for his help. _Missouri thought-spoke irritably to his AI.

_We have no way of knowing everything the Reds and Blues have been through. _Lambda said firmly, her whispers echoing in his skull and mingling with his own conscious thoughts like a split personality.

_They __**have **__been hijacked before, _Missouri admitted, _by __**her**__._

Missouri lowered the field glasses from his eyes. He had been scouting Blue base for thirty minutes trying to work up the courage to face **them **again.

_I have no way of knowing whether or not she will shoot me on sight. And I never did know Washington very well. _

_Agent Carolina and Agent Washington are as vastly different as they can be, yet they have collected their respective talents into a working synergetic union._ Lambda supplied.

_It's a partnership of convenience. She was so focused on her work and being the best that she pushed __**York **__away and he had been a trusted friend._

_People change. _Lambda countered after a lengthy silence.

_Maybe. _

Moe lifted himself from the ground and approached Blue base carefully, hands held aloft to signify himself as unarmed.

**BBBBB**

"We are not arguing about this again, Tucker." Carolina insisted through clenched teeth.

She hated speaking with, working with and generally being around the teal-somewhat-aqua colored soldier the most out of all the Blues. In between his lame attempts to sleep with her; ordering him around was akin to trying to tell a donkey what to do.

_An ass is the perfect metaphor for this one. _Carolina thought as she rubbed her temples in a vain effort to stave off her insipient tension headache.

"And **I'm **telling **you **it's your turn." Tucker debated animatedly. The whine in his voice was unattractive to any being without a hearing impediment.

"I did it last week. Now's you're turn. It's not like anyone's going to judge you."

"Then make Wash do it."

"**Wash **is out repairing the radio amplifier after **someone **tried rigging it into a karaoke machine again." Carolina pointed out, crossing her arms.

"Not my fault! Tucker did it!" Caboose protested from his place in the lavatory.

He was currently naked, sitting in a foamy bubble bath, playing with a floating rubber duck he had named Artemis Quacks. His helmet was splashed here and there with suds and water. Despite numerous attempts to relieve him of his helmet, Carolina was denied and finally had given up with a frustrated huff. Caboose had insisted that all she was trying to do was remove his head and that he would not allow that to happen.

"No, Tucker did not do it," Carolina reminded the dumb soldier, "Washington caught you after he heard you barking out lyrics to _Hungry Eyes _in a vain attempt to once again make Church admit to being your best friend. That is why you aren't allowed dessert for three days."

"Aww, man! And we are having cheesecake tonight!" Caboose lamented from the bathroom.

"No, **we **are having cheesecake. **You **are having oatmeal again." Carolina cajoled.

"And so, we are left with you." Carolina said, returning her gaze back to the sea-foam green soldier before her. Her golden viewport was turned down in a serious motion.

"Aw, God damn it!" Tucker exclaimed.

Carolina smirked behind her helmet.

"Hey, that Blue team organizational chart is very specific about who bathes Caboose during any given week."

"That's not true! It's so fucked up and confusing that nobody in their right mind can understand it."

"I admit that sometimes Church has to decipher the convoluted thing for me, but nevertheless, I'm in charge and I say it's your turn to bathe Caboose."

"Oh God! My toes are getting pruny!" Caboose called in wonderment from the lav.

"You better get going Tucker." Carolina laughed.

"I hate you." Tucker sighed, defeated.

"I hate you…" Carolina stated, motioning with her hand above her crossed arms.

"…**Ma'am.**"Tucker sighed as he hefted a towel and washrag in his arms and headed toward the lav, shoulders slumped.

**BBBB**

Agent Washington wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, wrench clenched tightly in his grip. His long brown hair was scraggly with his sweat, his chin sprouting a few days' worth of growth needing a shave. A large black smear of grease abruptly interrupted the pale white of his forehead.

Normally, he would keep the black-with-yellow-accents helmet atop his head, allowing is HUD to display which components were unusable and in need of replacing. However it had been an unusually hot day. So much so that even the encroaching Valhalla dusk was uncomfortable warm and sticky. Had he had his helmet on, he would have noticed the figure surreptitiously and stealthily approaching him.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, causing fear to spike inside his head. He swung around quickly, the wrench grasped in his hand formed into a makeshift weapon.

"Now is that any way to greet your superior officer, Wash?" Carolina greeted.

She had removed her helmet somewhere along the way and wore her bright red hair in a lazy ponytail. It was how Wash knew she was smiling.

"You wouldn't be my superior if you hadn't…" Washington started.

"…Defeated you fair and square in that sparring match?" Carolina offered cheekily.

"If you hadn't cheated." Wash pointed out.

"Hey, you never stated I couldn't use knucks."

"That was **supposed **to be implied. Caboose down for his bath?"

"Oh yeah, Tucker is on it. But you know how he is."

Wash chuckled.

"How long did it take this time?"

"Only ten minutes. It's a new record."

"Hmm. Just glad I wasn't saddled with it this time."

"What is it with you boys? You see one dong and start tripping over your own feet trying to leave the lav."

"It's nice to see you taking some compassion over Caboose. You brought him that rubber duck and now you're arranging his baths." Was teased. Carolina shrugged.

"He grew on me. You know how I was when he and I first met?" Carolina inquired.

She looked to the purple sky. The first inklings of stars were showing themselves for the first time that night.

"I take it you weren't exactly feeling friendly?" Wash guessed.

"He was trying to be nice and compliment me one time. He knew I was angry and mean and well, a stone-cold bitch. I took his comment completely the wrong way. I blew up some power couplings and raged at him. I do feel remorse over some of the things I did, you know?"

Carolina turned her attention from the stars and back to Washington.

"Just like you feel remorse for some of the things you and Maine did to the Reds and Blues."

"Okay, so we used to be dicks. We had a lot on our minds."

"Yeah…" Carolina considered the comment, "Still though. That's no excuse. Caboose doesn't know any better when he says I must look great under this armor. I took it completely the wrong way."

"Live and learn, Carolina," Wash said with a shrug, "You made up for it. You've got a cooler head now and are being the leader you were born to be."

Carolina smiled and punched him in the shoulder.

"Make sure those parts are replaced and soldered by 0900, Wash." She ordered.

"Aye aye, ma'am." Wash said with a sigh.

"And… thanks." Carolina said honestly. Wash smiled back at the reluctant comment.

"Any time, Carolina."

Carolina turned away as Wash began once again hinting for burnt out components in the radio amplifier.

**BBBBBB**

"God damn it! Why in God's name would you come here of all places?! You and another fucking AI with the UNSC hunting the galaxy for the remnants of Project Freelancer decide to come here out of freaking **billions **of planets and empty space! Fucking great!"

Moe was taken aback. Church was standing before him in a gleaming new blue body, arms crossed indignantly as he screamed into the night air.

"I needed a place to lie low. I figured Valhalla and the Reds and Blues would be a decent place to recharge Lamb and gather supplies and intelligence."

"I thought Carolina and Was were the only former freelancers left and another one walks right up like he owns the place. Nobody fucking tells me anything anymore!" Church griped.

"I thought I was alone too. Carolina and Washington being alive warms me. I thought I was the last of my brothers and sisters. How did **you **feel believing you were the last AI?" Missouri demanded.

"It totally ruins your point when you only mention the good things." Church said sarcastically.

"So you felt…"

"Relieved, happy, joyful, ecstatic, euphoric, amazing, elated, jubilant, excited, free… Pick a fucking adjective."

"So you don't exactly follow me. Still though, Carolina and Washington being alive is a good thing." Missouri insisted.

"Agent Missouri…"

It was Carolina's voice. He had only heard it a few times but he could never forget the underlying tones of authority in her resonating voice. Missouri turned around quickly, surprised to find the barrel of a pistol trained squarely on his midsection.

"Yeah, and apparently she's beside herself with joy at seeing **you **again." Church gloated.

Moe was speechless. The only thing he could do was slowly raise his hands in surrender.

**BBBBB**

A silver blur was what Wash had called it when he attempted to identify it from his perch upon Valhalla's lush soil. A piece of cosmic refuse small enough to rocket by in milliseconds only to be gone from existence within the following moment. Nothing to be concerned about, nothing worth radioing in about.

However it was no simple piece of silvery garbage that had interrupted the sight line from Valhalla to the stars. A one-man twin engine star fighter slowed its speed drastically as it began orbiting Valhalla.

The sleek black steel design was one kept under wraps for years until such a vessel was needed. The steel cockpit and solid black tinted viewport sported two long, powerful blaster cannons for use in short-range dogfights. The cockpit led to the massive rectangular body, sporting the crew quarters, recreational area, cargo bay and engine room.

From the rectangular – and rather blocky – body of the ship jutted four long and durable wings, each equipped with seeker missile pods along the wing's undercarriage. Twin ion engines sprouted from the engine room immediately behind the craft, capable of hyperspace travel. It was the latest technology creating the ultimate stealth fighter in the galaxy.

The T4-H1000 sported the best array of tracking equipment and cloaking devices available on a highly maneuverable craft of its size and obvious function. The letters and numbers were painted upon both flanks for identification purposes.

"Speartip to HQ. Speartip to HQ. How copy?" the female pilot inquired into her stark white armor's microphone. Her built in audio pickups zeroed in the response immediately.

"UNSC Special Tactics Force Alpha HQ, reading you loud and clear, Speartip. How may we assist?" the reply sounded muffled in static but the lifelong pilot didn't let it bother her.

"I am at the target site. Where the fuck are my ODSTs?" Speartip responded irritably.

"Protocol, Speartip!" The UNSC STF Director ordered, snapping off in a barking tone.

The pilot grumbled inwardly.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." She answered professionally, although she would rather shove his "_protocol_" down his throat.

"ODST support has not been authorized for this mission and you know it. You are to land undetected, get readings on the more famous sim-troopers stationed there, see if you can find some proof of Agent Missouri's presence on Valhalla and then radio back upon **confirmation**. You get your ODST backup after confirmation, not before. Is that understood, Speartip?" the STF Director commanded.

"Yes sir, Director."

"And remember, no engaging the enemy without prior permission. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, Speartip. Over and out."

"Over and out STF Director."

Speartip narrowed her eyes in distaste before punching her landing coordinates into the navigation computer and plotting her course to the jungles of Valhalla.


End file.
